Amongst the Gangs
by Sharpsnout
Summary: Imagine growing up in the 5 points living with the gangs, the murders, and the prostitutes. How would you surive? You might turn pickpocket, thats what this kid did and Survived the 1860s with the Gangs of New York. Chapter 6 FINALLY UP READ AND REVIEW PL
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I own Wallace and other stuff that you didn't see in the movie; the characters and the accounts that are from the movie belong to the movie people for Gangs of New York. Also some of the terminology, I got out of the actual book Gangs of New York written in 1927 by Herbert Asbury. 

Also too avoid confusion the first couple paragraphs you see are diary entries, it was the best way I figured to start the story. However I hopefully wont have to use that method again. I wrote the diary entries in actual format, meaning words are misspelled, there is no grammar, basically I wrote it how I figured a 11 year old living in the 5 Points who just came over from Scotland would write and talk. 

Well now that I've gotten that straightened out enjoy the fic.

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7th entry. June 6th 1863. Wallace Levi McClintock.

            'Sorry I haven't ritten in so long, I just havent had time. Me father says we're getting close to America, and we should be there in a few days at the most. A part of me is glad, I can hardly wait to leave this bloody boat behind. I've decided I may never leave solid land once we arrive in New York. Then again apart of me is a little fraid of reching America. Father says that America's in a war right now. When I asked with who he said with herself. I'm hoping there's no fiting in New York, just a little bit of what we had to see when we caut our boat in Ireland to take us to Liverpool in Britin where this ship was waiting, was enough fer me, I've seen some fights breaking out, back home in the highlands but I've never seen anything like this, it was there I was starting to dout this trip was really worth it. We sold every thing we owned including our mare Nessie. And now Father hasn't been feeling well fer three days now, he keps saying he's fine but I'm worried 'bout him. So I hope we reach New York soon, I think he'll be fine once we're on land, but he says that it isn't seasickness. See father loves the sea; he grew up near it, while I was born and raised in the highlands. I think we're the only Scots on the boat, everyone else is Irish, most of them are speaking Gaelic, I can only understand a few words. Father however understands everything their saying, but he wont translate all of it. That's all for now, the crew's handing out bread and I've got to get me and fathers piece before some Irish thief takes it. I probly wont be riting till we get to New York, I'm running out of ink and there's not a hole lot of light down here.'

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                        8th entry. June 9the 1963. Wallace Levi McCLintock.

            'I know I said I was not going to be riting till we got to New York. We are still not there yet. Captin says we should be there the day after tomarow, but he has been saying that since we left Liverpool. The reson I am riting is Father died this morning. The Captin gave him a buriel at sea. Which is what he would have wanted I think. After the buriel the Captin came over to me and said when we reach New York they were going to put me in some place for orfens, theyd tech me everything I need to no in America and I'd leave the place an edacated young man. Mean while as he's going on 'bout all this, I'm thinking let them try and put me any place once this bot hits land I'm not staying around, I'll be long gone by the time they relies I'm gone. Just as he was saying this an Irish woman father had been talking too near the entire trip, stepped up and said that I wasn't an orfen, I belonged to her. The Captin was as shocked as I. But he didn't say a word after that. I was greatful to the woman. Becuse I've decided that once we reach New York, no matter how long it takes I am going to save up enough money and buy meself a tiket home. I heard that these places they take orfens too don't let them out until they are 18, and that's if theyve behaved. If I got meself stuck in one of those I wouldn't be getting home till I'm at lest 30. I really don't know how I'm going to earn money, I've heard the Captin talking saying that the Irish will work for less wages then anyone else, so all the Irish are taking up all the damn jobs. But that doesnt matter to me, I have a skill that the Irish cant get paid fer, no matter how low of pay they will work fer. Me skill cant be cheated out of long hours fer less money. I'll get me tiket and I'll get home, back to Scotland, where me grandparents are where me mum is buried." 

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Wallace closed the journal and looked around. All around him his fellow immigrants went about their business. Death had become a daily occurrence on their ship; so one more quick funeral was nothing new. Though they had offered sympathies, they had just done it out of respect for the dead. And Wallace knew that. He didn't even get up off his hammock to get his share of the bread and cold soup being passed out to the passengers. He didn't feel like eating, how could he, his father had just died leaving him alone on a boat surrounded by Irish. None of them where speaking English, they where all talking in Irish, and Wallace could only make out a few words. Such as "Jobs" and "wages." One Irish woman was complaining about the dampness and that it was giving her babies chills. His father had taught him a little Gaelic on their way too Liverpool. But it was only a little bit, it was enough too ask for the way too the dock and too tell someone to get out of the way.

"Not eating aint going to bring him back boyo." An Irish man in his late 30s said to Wallace. As he returned from the stairs leading up on deck where the crew was handing out food. He was looking at Wallace sympathetically. 

            "Leave me be!" Wallace said loudly.

            "Look boyo, you're just going to have to get on with your life."

            "Jus' leave me be." 

            "Ya have a temper, that's good, means you're strong willed. Don't see much of that." The man held up half of his bread. "Look boyo, I'm offering you part of my food."

            "I don't want yer sympathies."  The man nodded 

            "Fine I'll just leave it here, I'd eat it quick though. Might not know how long it will stay there." Wallace watched as the man left, he then looked down at the bread and quickly ate a little bit. He took what he hadn't eaten and wrapped it in some paper from his journal and put it in his bag. Suddenly a bell rang up on deck and the first mate poked his head down into the belly of the ship he had a cloth covering his face and Wallace knew why, the smell down there was horrible and he was positive he had seen some rats that could be compared with small dogs. He had red marks from the fleas that littered the hammocks and Wallace hadn't slept longer then an hour at a time for fear of either getting bitten by one of the grotesquely large rats or having his belongings swiped. 

            "We'll be reaching New York tonight, we'll dock in the morning." Was all he said before retreating back up too the deck. There was cheering all around and Wallace sighed, he'd have to be all set to get off as soon as they hit dock. He picked up his fathers bag and quickly sorted through it. He pulled out things that he wanted too keep, like his fathers timepiece, the money they had left after purchasing the tickets, his fathers knife, and his mothers locket. Wallace took it and clipped it behind his neck. Everything else Wallace put in his own bag and tied it closed. All of his fathers other belongings Wallace put back in the bag and tied it closed. The other stuff he'd sell. He took his cap out from under his blanket and jammed it onto his head pulling it so it shadowed his eyes. Now he was ready, the minute they landed he was out of there, Wallace didn't know exactly where he'd go anywhere where he could still earn a living. Besides he'd only stay long enough too earn his money and go home. As the sun began setting, Wallace could see the outline of land, he wrapped the rope on his bag around his hand and took a deep breath, he was ready.

            "New Yerk get ready fer a taste of Scottish 'ighlands."

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So did you like the first chapter? I hope so, tell me if you did or you have any suggestions I'm always open to constructive criticism however Flames are not tolerated.  *bows* guten tag!


	2. The 5 Points

Disclaimer: I own Wallace…..Yep that's pretty much it….Well I own Frankie too, but everything else? That belongs to creators of the movie Gangs of NY and the people who wrote the books on it. 

Thanks to Trooper 3.6 and AzN*PyRo*ArCaDa for their reviews. I hope to hear from you and enjoy the chapter.

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            Wallace was unprepared for the new smells that hit him when he stepped onto the deck. He coughed a bit trying to regain his breath. He glanced around getting his first glimpse of New York. It didn't look that different from Liverpool people crowding a dock all blending in together. He looked over the railing and grimaced as he saw caskets being unloaded from other boats.

            "Oh that's an uplifting sight" he muttered too himself.

            "Keep moving boy." A sailor said pushing Wallace along. On the dock Wallace joined the other immigrants streaming down the dock. A large man with a top hat stopped Wallace as he was moving, 

            "How old are you son?"

            "11" Wallace answered 

            "When voting time comes, your 18 and vote Tammany" the man handed Wallace a loaf of bread and a slip of paper with the words vote Tammany on it, patted him on the back, and pushed him along. 

            "Crazy Yank;" he muttered and kept his head down as they walked down the dock. Suddenly a hand reached out and pulled Wallace out of the line. "'Ey leave me 'lone let go!" When Wallace was able too get a look at the owner of the hand, it was a boy, a few years old then himself, dressed all in blue.

            "How old are you Paddy?" Wallace shot a glare at the teen. 

            "I aint no Paddy!" he said loudly taking great offence at being called an Irishmen. 

            "How old are you?" the teen repeated with great annoyance in his voice.

            "11." Wallace answered, _why in 'ell are they askin me age it's not like its goin too change between seconds. _He thought

            "You sure about that boy?"

            "I think I know me own age!"  Wallace said loudly

            "Ever consider fighting for you country?"

            "Fer Scotland?" the teen grabbed Wallace's collar and held him so their faces where inches apart.

            "For the North stupid, you know the Union Army, fighting for Lincoln?"

            "I jus' got to America, I don't know bout no fightin," Wallace said with a smirk. "I don't know 'bout no North or Union Army, and I certainly don't know anythin 'bout Lincoln. So 'ow can I fight fer somthin that I don't know 'bout it?"

            "Why you little smart bas-" the teen said raising his fist too punch Wallace.

            "What's going on here?!" a man in the same uniform as the teen said, coming up behind them.

            "Nothing sir just questioning this Paddy, he's 14 old enough too fight sir." Wallace stared at the teen in shock

            "I aint no Paddy and I'm 11 not 14!" The soldier looked at Wallace then at the teen then back at Wallace

            "That true boy?" Wallace nodded furiously

            "Aye!"

            "Can you prove it?" again Wallace nodded

            "Aye" he repeated and reached under his shirt and pulled out his locket, one side was a photograph of Wallace's family, his parents, him, and his grandparents. On the other side was a drawing of Wallace himself, he pulled out a piece of paper from behind the drawing. On it was written Wallace's birth date. His mother had always kept adequate records of everything and had filed his birth record in her locket so she would always have them with her. "See 'ere it is." Wallace said holding the paper too the soldier, he looked at it and nodded. 

            "He's eleven." The soldier said "according too this at least. Let him go Williamson." The teen let his hold on Wallace's collar and walked away. "Well boy welcome too America,"

            "Thank ye" Wallace said dryly picking up his bag.

            "And boy?"

            "Aye?"

            "If you ever consider fightin for your country boy you'd make a fine soldier. We can always use brave young men like you, ever consider it, whether it be fightin or carrying the flag, you'd do well son." Wallace nodded then when the soldier couldn't see him he rolled his eyes in annoyance, 

            "All these Yanks are bloody tapped." He muttered. Some how he managed too get off the dock and onto the road. Wallace wasn't exactly sure where he was heading, but he did know something he was going to need some money. He wasn't positive about American money, but Wallace figured he'd swipe what he could out of someone's purse; maybe a timepiece or two and he'd be all set. Wallace walked past a well dressed gentleman, his timepiece's chain hanging out for the world too see; _perfect Wallace thought, he walked closer to the man, it was so crowded people where bumping into everyone else. Too Wallace this was the best situation to work in, hundreds bumping into you, unsure who it was exactly, and by the time you realize that you've been picked, it's too late the picketer was long gone in the crowd with your belongings. Wallace was a master at pick pocketing, it was a skill that at times he wasn't proud of and that his father had been none to happy about, but it came as a necessity. _

Easily Wallace reached over too the man's vest and lifted the timepiece, then as easily, he reached into the man's pocket and pulled out his purse. Before the man knew anything was gone, Wallace was gone in the crowd. He walked down the street slipping the purse into his hat and putting it back on his head, the time piece Wallace slipped into his bag. 

            "Hey you there!" a boy's voice called through the crowd. Wallace didn't think anything of it; he just kept walking, when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around to face the person fists up ready too fight. 

            "What do ye want!" he shouted.

            "Nothing, I just want to talk;" said the boy letting go of Wallace's shoulder. He was about Wallace's age, maybe a few years older. He had light brown hair tied in up. "You just get off the boat?" he said in an accent that was a mix of Northern Ireland and British.

            "Aye," Wallace answered "what's it too you."

            "I saw you life that man's timepiece." Wallace swallowed was he losing his touch, how did someone see him?

            "Don't know what yer talkin 'bout" Wallace said keeping eye contact.

            "Ya don't have to be worrying I won't turn ya in, infact I can help ya."

            "I don't need anyone." Wallace retorted

            "That may be so back in the old country friend, but it be different here in the States. You've got to run with the right crowd to keep from bein sent to Hell Gate."

            "'ell Gate?" Wallace asked "what's that?"

            "Place they send kids who don't got any homes, orphans, they'll keep ya there till your 18, longer if it suits them. They love to send thieves and pickpockets there as well;"

            "And yer supposed ta 'elp me stay out of this place? 'ow?" 

            "Come with me and I'll explain it ta ya,"

            "I'll come with ye, but it don't mean I trus' ya!" Wallace said shifting his bags weight.

            "Right," Wallace followed the boy down a street "by the way me names Francis, but everyone calls me Frankie, I run with a gang"

            "Yer in a gang?" Wallace asked unable to hide his surprise, Frankie nodded and grinned with pride.

            "Called the Little Forty Thieves, we're based off of the adult gang the Forty Thieves;" he paused "so ya goin to tell me your name boyo?" Wallace thought for a moment then nodded

            "Aye, its Wallace,"

            "Wallace" Frankie said nodding "ya named after anyone Wallace?"

            "Aye, William Wallace, 'e fought the English fer Scotland, 'e died fer 'is country, 'e showed them damn English that they couldn't push us 'round no more," Frankie seemed impressed

            "That sounds like something to be proud of, so I'm right in guessin you're from Scotland?"

            "Aye,"

            "Your accent gave it away, your goin to be pretty hard to follow I can tell ya that," Wallace nodded he knew that, his accent was thick, he'd personally never noticed it, but had been told by plenty of people that they couldn't understand a word he was saying. They stepped out of a side street and Wallace stared at the sight before him, he had never seen such a sight; people, animals, dead people and dead animals. The road was dirt unlike the street cobble stone he had first come off the boats onto. People where walking around, some were fighting others were screaming at one another. Wallace felt a ping of homesickness, he didn't like this new place; this wasn't worth all that he had lost in leaving Scotland. "Welcome to the Five Pints Wallace," Wallace watched the people walking around, it was easy to pick out the pickpockets they moved with such quickness and skill that Wallace couldn't help but feel a swell of pride flow through him. "You'll get acquainted with the place sooner then ya think Wallace," Frankie said steering the boy to what seemed to be the center of the commotion. "This is called Paradise Square," he said leaning against the fence "ya get the best view of the gangs from here." He pointed at a group of proper looking men walk by "see them"

            "They aint a gang are they?" Wallace asked

            "Don't be fooled by the way they dress, those be called the Shirt Tails, they aint much of a sport anymore they went kind of soft, but they still call themselves a gang and I wouldn't do anythin to be settin them off." He pointed to another group walking by, tough looking they pushed anyone who got in their way out of it. "Those be the Plug Uglies," 

            "Plug Uglies?"

            "Ya, their from somewhere deep in Ireland, no one has any clue what their sayin, we just stay out of their way, they love to rile up the cops, then ya really be gettin a good show." nearby a group of kids Wallace's age all ganged up on one man. "Ah me own group, that there is the Little Forty Thieves, we mostly don't depend on pickpocketin, in our minds too much a chance of getting caught,"

            "And that aint?" Wallace asked nodding his head towards the group as they where chased off by another man.

            "Naw, see ya run with a gang people respect ya, they wont try anything more then chashin yer ass; they only to that to us because they figure they can give ya a good scare, but what they don't realize is once they've ticked off a gang their marked."

            "Marked?" Wallace asked Frankie took his finger and slide it across his throat and Wallace understood.

            "Now most of the times worryin 'bout the law is yer last thought, there's two types of law. The municipal and the metropolitan, municipal them, they work fer Tammany."

            "Who?"

            "Did a suit stop you on the dock? Tellin ya to vote fer him?"

            "Aye,"

            "That's Tammany, he's a backstabbin bastard that can't be trusted; thinks he owns the Five Pints, he don't. No the true man ya wanna talk to is Bill the Butcher," Wallace's eyes bugged out, he hoped that when Frankie said butcher he meant an actual butcher not a guy that would hack someone. "Bill owns the Five Pints, everyone knows that Bill'll take care of ya,"

            "What's the catch?" 

            "Ya hafta pay him, not a lot, if yer workin 'lone then half yer pickin's go to Bill you keep the other half, in return he gives you a place to stay and I've heard if he really likes ya you can even work for him directly." Frankie grinned at Wallace "Come on I'll take ya to meet the Butcher."

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Trooper I know you asked for a Gang Fight…I promise there will be one soon. Anyways hope you all enjoyed the chapter and I hope to hear from some new people. Just sent me a review that's all I ask. Just no flames, *bows*

                        Sharpsnout


	3. Meetin the Butcher

Disclaimer: I own Wallace, Frank…and other people you don't recognize from the movie…don't own the song New York Girls either which sucks cause I love that song…

This one was a VERY long time no update…sheesh…anyways I've got review thanks to hand out!

            Guybrush The Feral Chicken: Please tell me you got that name 'cause you're a Monkey Island nut 2?! I love that game ever since my dad bought me the original for the MAC. Anyways, Glad you like the story…Too and To are two things in grammar I have the most problem with, friends have tried to explain it to me, teachers, parents…no one has been able to help me distinguish them. Dunno why it is though…thanks for trying though. Anywho thanks for your review!

            Lycan Cross: Glad you like, I'm hopin to keep it goin, this may be the last chapter for a WHILE cause I don't know where to take it next.

Sorphedius: blushes severly thanks for your review. Like I said 'for I hope to continue, but I'm running into some nasty writers block with this. And at your request you may find a gang fight in here grins mischievously and maybe Bill…who knows your gonna hafta read to find out!

Modred: Glad you like, thanks a lot for your review! Hope to hear from you!

Stinky Stan: Also glad you like I will continue I hope you continue reading!

Beeeyaaatch: Did I get it right?...I hope so…That accent thing? I  do it all the time 'specially when I watch Brave Heart…ooo its really bad then, I'm stuck in a Scottish accent for hours after that movie…Hope you like the new chappie and hope to hear from you!

That's everyone…Hope everyone still likes the fic and I hope to keep hearing from all of you!

See ya at the end

Wallace followed Frank down the streets keeping a sharp eye for anyone who might try and bump into him. They stopped in front of a small building with a puppet hanging in front that had a sign around its neck that read 'Satan's Circus'

            "Come on," Frankie said gesturing for Wallace to follow him inside. Inside Wallace was hit with all new scenery. It was smoky inside and very crowded, the stench of smoke sent Wallace coughing; the smell of alcohol was strong reminding Wallace of the pubs back home so did the sounds, the sound of people yelling and cheering and laughing…and singing!

            "As I walked down to Chattem Street a fair maid I did meet she asked me to see her home she lived in Bleaker Street. Tell me way assenti my dear Annie" Wallace looked towards the sound of the singing; he had heard that song before or something like it. A man was singing, walking around singing it at the top of his lungs. "Oh you New Yerk girls cant ya dance the polka!" Frankie saw the look on Wallace's face

            "Like the song Boyo?"

            "Aye" he answered

            "Come on cant keep the Butcher waitin," as they headed into a back room, they passed a pen where men where hanging around it with a dog attacking a whole load of rats. He looked at Frank curious; he had heard about rat fights but had never seen one. Didn't seem right to Wallace, to him dogs served a better purpose then fighting. They should protect the home Frank shrugged and shook his head; "I don't 'gree with it neither Boyo, t'isnt right, but welcome to America Wallace, that's the way things are done here,"  they entered the back room where a group of men sat around the small table playing cards.

            "Well, well, well, if it aint Frankie," the man nearest the fire place said. "How ya been boy?"

            "Cant complain Bill, pretty good pickin's out there, brung it ta ya." Bill leaned foreword and examined the pile of goods Frank took out from his pockets and under his hat.

            "This is very good very good indeed, you're a good boy Frankie," Wallace watched quietly from the side looking around at the place, a picture frame on the mantel caught his eye; he couldn't really read what it said. He was staring at it leaning forward a little trying to read the writing on it; he was doing just that when Bill noticed him. "Friend of yours?"

            "Ya right off the boats, hadn't been off the cobblestone 'fore he was diggin in a man's pocket." Bill nodded and gestured for Wallace to come closer.

            "Divin right in huh boy? You've got some gut for an Irish." Wallace knew this probably wasn't the best place for his temper to get the best of him, but he was getting sick of being called an Irish.

            "I aint no bleedin Irish," he said loudly Bill looked at Frank who looked from Bill to Wallace hurriedly. Wallace bit his bottom lip and could feel his body start to shake, not from anger but from fear. Bill stood up and walked over to Wallace who took a step back.

            "You do got guts boy, where you from?" Bill said leaning down staring right at Wallace, who couldn't take his eyes off the glass eagle eye Bill had "I asked you a question."

            "Scotland sir," Wallace said trying his best too keep his voice steady hiding the fear that he felt racing throughout his body. "'ighlands," Bill nodded and suddenly began laughing all the others seated around him also began laughing more slowly and cautiously keeping an eye on Bill. Bill turned to Wallace still laughing suddenly he stopped and waved his hand everyone else ceased laughing as well.

            "Never met a Scottie," he said he stood up and moved closer to Wallace, he put his hand on the back of Wallace's head and stared at the boy. Once again Wallace could not stop staring at the eagle in the glass eye. He bit his lip and swallowed nervously "are all Scots gutsie as well boy?" Bill asked softly leading Wallace into a corner of the room near the fireplace. Wallace nodded slowly

            "Aye, we 'ave to be,"

            "Whys that?"

            "England sir, they take our 'omes an' lands fer themselves, actin' like jus' 'cause we're 'part of their island they can own us, been goin' on fer centauries. We've been fightin' 'em fer centuaries too aint 'elped 'tall, we're still not free." Again Bill started laughing this time it was more of a silent laughter, he patted Wallace's shoulders.

            "That's the way it is here in New York boy, the Irish come in here take everything from us true Americans." Wallace couldn't help but smile; this guy felt the same way he did about outsiders destroying people's homes and ways of life. _Wait a moment_, Wallace felt his face pale he was an outsider to America, did that mean Bill thought he was no better then the Irish. "I'm so glad to find someone who shares my beliefs, you got a name Scottie?"

            "Aye, Wallace, Wallace McClintock,"

            "Well Wallace, how would you like to work for me?"

            "I'd be 'onoured sir,"

            "Good boy, let me lay things right out for ya," Wallace nodded

            "Yes sir,"

            "First off, if your gonna be workin' alone half your lot goes to me, that helps me take care of ya give ya a place to sleep and keep ya safe from the other gangs and the law. Lessen you want to be spendin' the rest of your childhood at Hell Gate." Wallace quickly shook his head that was the last place he wanted to go to. "All right then, rule number two, never come in here to see me empty handed, I like ya so you get away with it this time, next time you better damn come with something, understand?"

            "Aye sir," Wallace paused for a moment thinking before deciding that maybe it be best to give Bill what he did have "may I say somthin' sir?" Bill nodded "I didn't come in empty 'anded I've got the timepiece I lifted and there's some money in the man's purse, only I don't know 'ow much I don't know 'merican money yet so I couldn't figure it, it's loaded with coins though." Bill grinned        

            "Lemme see the timepiece," Wallace reached into his bag and lifted out the timepiece and held it up to Bill who took it

            "This is very nice very nice indeed."

            "Do you want the money as well?"

            "Since you where honest enough to tell me you had something for me I'll let you keep the money, hang on to it and next time you come in I'll teach you about American money."

            "Really?"

            "You have my word,"

            "Thank ye sir,"

            "Can you read Wallace?"

            "Aye sir,"

            "And write?"

            "Aye, aint so good at the spellin' part though,"

            "You seem like a smart lad, that's good." Bill patted Wallace on the head then placed his hand on Wallace's shoulder before turning to Frank, his hands still rested on the boy's shoulder. "Frankie,"

            "Aye Bill?"

            "Take our young friend here, bring him to Miss Charlotte, tell her I sent ya,"

            "Yes Bill," Bill looked down at Wallace again

            "You'll be in good hands with Miss Charlotte, she'll give ya a place to sleep and you don't gotta pay her nothin'

            "Nothin' sir?"

            "Nothin' I take care of it when I take in half your loot, see how it works?"

            "Aye I do sir,"

            "Good, every other day you come in here and give me half of what you make. Who knows if you do a good job you might get promoted and assist me," He patted Wallace's shoulders and nodded at Frankie who gestured for Wallace to follow. Wallace nodded at Bill and followed Frank out into the streets.

            "Ya definitely lucked out in there boyo, Bill usually don't take to anyone who aint a native that quickly."

            "Aye, but what does 'e mean 'bout Natives?"

            "Bill's got his own gang called the Natives, only born Americans are in it, They own the five points, did ya notice the frame on the mantel behind Bill?" Wallace nodded

"Aye, couldn't read it though, was to far 'way,"

"That man was Priest Vallon, ten years ago the Irish tried to take the Five Pints away from the natives, right out in front of the Old Brewery was a huge fight. Natives where a large gang and a group of Irish gangs joined up together, it was led by a gang that's been outlawed since," Frank pulled Wallace closer and lowered his voice to a very soft whisper "called the Dead Rabbits,"

"Dead Rabbits?!" Wallace exclaimed Frank quickly slapped his hand over Wallace's mouth

"Shh, I told ya they's was outlawed, no ones ever supposed to speak it, Bill's the one who outlawed them after the fight. He'll make any man who even speaks 'bout them regret they even heard of them."

            "Sorry,"

            "Its ok, anyways, the fight was going pretty good I guess, it was breakin' 'bout even with the killin' one pint the Irish where even winnin' then it came down to the gang leaders Priest Vallon for the Irish and Bill the Butcher for the natives, Bill killed Priest and regained the Pints." Wallace didn't know what to say, he silently followed Frank down the street. They stopped in front of a crowded decrepit building with the faded words Old Brewery on a sign. "Happened right here Boyo," Frank said gesturing to the space in front of the building.

            "Really?"

            "Aye,"

            "Bloody Bastards!" a man's voice shouted causing Wallace to jump, Frank grinned wide looking towards a huge crowd that had gathered on the other side of the fence.

            "A gang fight!" he shouted cheering "'bout bloody time, hasn't been a good show in ages, come on Wallace," he said grabbing Wallace's arm and dragging him down the street.

            "Oy Frankie!" a boy about Frank's age ran up to them "Gonna be a glorious fight!"

            "Who is it?"

            "Plug Uglies versus Forty Thieves, Uglies lookin' to add to their territory movin onto the Thieves!"  They reached the fence and Frank and the other boy climbed up into an old tree, then Frank reached down and pulled Wallace up.

            "Jimmy this is Wallace just off the boat with a shit load of guts," Jimmy grinned and stuck out his hand to Wallace

            "Nice to meet ya," Wallace nodded and shook Jimmy's hand

            "Aye you two," One of the Plug Uglies nailed a Thieve with a board then the two of them where on the ground wrestling around.

            "This is ours go home ya thieving bastard!" the man with the hat replied something in Galeic. Wallace didn't know what he had said but whatever it was it had really pissed off the Thieve who whipped out a knife and stabbed him.

            "OY!" Jimmy shouted standing up "send him to meet his maker Tre!" the man called Tre looked up at the boys and grinned

            "Hoy Jimmy Frankie! Come to watch the show?"

            "Yea! Now get on with it you ass!" Frankie shouted grinning wide; Tre nodded and slit the guy's throat. Wallace felt the color drain from his face; he had never seen so much blood and had never seen someone die like that. He suddenly felt sick; he turned away from Frank and Jim and spat out the taste in his mouth.

            "You ok Wallace?"

            "Aye, jus'-"

            "Don't worry 'bout it you'll get used to it, happens all the time 'round here."

            A shrill whistle broke through the shouts and swearing, a group of men dressed in blue carrying clubs ran down towards them.

            "This show's getting' better and better, oy Frank?"

            "Aye tis,"

            "Who are they?" Wallace dared ask

            "The cops, those be the metropolitan this is really shapin' up to be a grand fight," Frank said patting Wallace on the back. Now the cops joined into the fight, hitting whoever got in their way with the clubs they carried, still tooting on their whistles. Apart of Wallace felt frightened about all that was going on, but the rest of him was intrigued this WAS pretty interesting, Frankie was right it was grand.

It wasn't long however before the fight began to break up, the apparent winners were the Forty Thieves keeping their terriortir and sending the Plug Uglies and the police to fight amonst themselves.

"So is Wallace joinin' us then Frank?" Jimmy asked Frank looked at Wallace then shrugged

"Maybe, not right now though, Bill's got him goin solo for a while, he's pretty good on the streets. Lifted a timepiece and a purse off a man when he hadn't been off the cobblestone, just stepped off the boat and was goin' for the pickens."

"Aye I hears ye," Jimmy said, he looked at Wallace and stuck out his hand "iffen you ever wanna join our gang Wallace, just talk to me or Frank, we getcha in aye boyo?" Wallace nodded and shook Frank's hand.

"Aye, I will," and with that Jim tapped his hat before walking off down the street.

"Come on, lets go see Miss Charlotte." Wallace nodded and followed Frank down the crowded street, unable to stop from staring at the sights all around him.

Well I got Bill in there and I got a gang fight in as well…hope I didn't screw up the fight very much…Anyways like I said…this may be the last update for a while…cause I'm totally stuck at what to do next for this…If anyone has any ideas I'd greatly appreciate them!

Anyways…flames not welcome but Constructive criticism and regular reviews are all ways welcome!

Later people

(bows)

Sharpsnout


	4. Miss Charlotte

Disclaimer: I own Wallace…and all the other names that don't appear in the movie Gangs of New York….Everyone else you do recognize AKA people such as Bill the Butcher, or places such as Paridise Square, they all belong to the director people of Gangs of New York. Some of the information comes from both a book based on the real Gangs of New York and from the movie itself….

Anyways…Holy crap…last time I updated this was back in June I am so sorry everyone…had some roadblocks on this, but now I have a very good idea where to take this so updates will be more frequent I hope…

But I do have some review thankees to be handing out….so here they go!

**Cooper Fizz:** (major blush) that is one of the first times a work of mine has been called well edited I'm horrible at that…So thanks a lot that means a lot to me. I get really detailed with stuff…some times I over do it, but I really appreciate you're review and I hope you keep on reading…cause like I said things are going to start getting exciting after this chapter, but I'm not sayin how! Bwhaha….Anyways again thanks for you're review hope to hear from you again.

**Trooper 3.6:** Yeah it was a while wasn't it…I'm sorry…like I said…major writers block…But hopefully that tis all over with! Yay! I hope the gang fight was ok and I hope you like this new chapter, as I said to Cooper, things are really going to start getting exciting after this chapter…I've got big plans on where to take this and its gonna get interesting. So keep reading and I hope to keep hearing from you! Thanks again!

**TheDogPorthos** Now that's a mouthful….Glad you like this, I'm a history fanatic and I love the Civil War, when I first saw Gangs of New York I fell in love with the movie, just because of the realism about it…then I found out there really were Gangs in New York back then so I was overly happy I think I drove my family nuts for a few days spurting out random 1963 New York facts. I'll definitely consider you're ideas, they sound really good and I could defeinetly work them into the story. I hope you keep reading and I hope to keep hearing from you. Thanks again! Later!

Ok that was all the Newbies…Thanks to everyone who reads this even if you don't leave a review I just appreciate you taking the time to read this…Well enjoy the newest chapter and I'll see you at the end!

**Chapter 4**

After all he had been experiencing that day, Wallace already had a picture of this Miss Charlotte in his mind; (A/N: I'm sure you all can imagine what he was thinking. Espically after all he's seen that day.) He was shocked to see a grandmother like woman sitting outside a nice building, one of the nicest he had seen since entering the Points. She was crocheting and watching a group of girls and boys play in the street.

"Well I'll be it's my Frankie boy, how's come you aint been visitin' me boy? You too busy to visit ol' Miss Charlotte?" Frank's face went red and he bowed

"Sorry 'bout that, things been getting' ugly out there, plug ugly," he replied with a grin. Miss Charlotte hooted with laughter at Frank's play on words and hit her knee.

"Now whose this little fella?" she said looking at Wallace

"Bill sent me to bring 'em to ya, this is Wallace, Bill asked if he could stay with ya?"

"Dontcha got any folks boy?" Wallace shook his head "where are they?"

"Dead," he said, Miss Charlotte looked at him sympathetically for a second before standing up and walking over to him. She looked him over, then picked up his arm and held it.

"My, your skin an' bones, an' I thought Frankie here was bad, we'll definitely hafta get some meat on those bones. Don't they feed 'cha on them boats" She smiled "but my oh my look at that face, could just make a mother cry, you gonna be workin' for the Butcher?" Wallace nodded "that's good he's a good man, I've been takin' care orphans that work for him for years, aint that right Frankie?" Frank nodded

"You wont find a better lady Wallace,"

"Oh Frank, go on and git," Miss Charlotte said blushing, she put an arm around Wallace's shoulders "well lets go get you settled,"

"I'll see ya 'round Wallace, meet me tomorrow in front of the Old Brewery 'bout noon, I'll give ya some tips on picken's in the five pints" Wallace nodded thanks and followed Miss Charlotte inside.

"Don't got many kids nowadays, most of 'em runnin' with Frankie's gang, they come in every now and then for a warm place to sleep and some hot food, but they mostly take care of themselves." She paused and looked at Wallace "didn't want to join Frankie?"

"Don't think I'm cut out to bein' in a gang ma'am, I've only run solo, tis all I know," she nodded

"well if you didn't have the Butcher lookin' out for you I wouldn't even consider seein' you out there solo, as I'm sure Frankie's already told you, this isn't the old country, things be different here, you wouldn't last out there iffen you didn't have the Butcher behind ya, no matter how good at ya trade eventually you'll get caught"

"Aye, 'e told me,"

"Now your accent, never heard an Irish like that, you fresh off the boat aren't you?"

"Aye, but I aint from Ireland, I'm from Scotland,"

"Ah Scotland, I thought so, was wonderin' how come Bill sent you to me, Bill doesn't fancy the Irish, I think the only reason he likes Frankie is because Frankie was born here and is only half Irish."

"I could tell…that 'e didn't like Irish…not that Frank is one of 'em" Wallace paused as she led him up a set of rickety stairs "'e's ok with Scots right?"

"Wallace, he wouldn't have sent ya to me if he wasn't, I only get those Bill trusts and likes, he don't like you he'll tell you so and leave you to fend for yourself out on the streets." She opened a door and ushered him into a small room, a real bed was in the corner with real blankets. "This is your room, I sleep next-door, I make breakfast when the sun's comin' up and dinner when its settin' ifen you aint gonna make to either one of 'em or just one lemme know 'fore hand so I don't waste food. I lock the front door when they start lighting the lamps, the lamp outside the house is the one I go by, if you aint inside when that light comes on, your out for the night, thats my rule. You don't hafta pay me, the Butcher takes care of all your expenses, but helpin' with chores and bringin' food wont be turned away, if I had more kids I'd insist 'pon it, since I only got you and Sarah you only got to keep your room tidy, that's all I ask."

"There's a girl here?" Miss Charlotte nodded

"Yes, wee little girl named Sarah, 'bout your age she's the Butcher's niece." Wallace nodded unsure what else to do.

* * *

That night for the first time in months, Wallace ate more then his fill, he felt like his stomach was bulging. It was a excellent feeling and if it never ended Wallace would be very happy, he liked this full feeling.

After they ate, Wallace helped Miss Charlotte clean off the table, she was very happy about this so much that she kissed both his cheeks when he offered and hugged him tight. This entire time he hadn't met this Sarah, she wasn't at dinner and when Miss Charlotte locked the door Wallace wasn't sure whether or not to speak up. As if reading his mind, she patted his head and said

"Sarah wasn't feeling well 'tall this mornin' so's I made her stay in bed iffen she's feelin' better you'll meet her tomorrow." Smiling and patting him on the head, she handed him a candle, and made her way up the stairs. Taking a deep breath Wallace went up to his own room. At first he wasn't sure he if it was all right to sleep in the bed, she had said it was all right, but it didn't feel right. But the last time he had slept in a real bed was, well back home, his last night in the home he had been born in, his last night in his beloved Highlands. The bed looked so inviting, compared to the hammocks he had been sleeping in since leaving England.

Well it wouldn't hurt to sit down at least, he figured and when he did so; he sank into the bed and laughed. He laughed quietly so not to wake Miss Charlotte, but still he laughed and laughed, so much that his eyes stung with tears. Still chuckling, he reached down and undid the laces of his well worn shoes, come winter he knew he'd need a new pair, the holes in these were getting larger by the day letting all sorts of the elements attack his feet. Back home, during the warmer days, Wallace had gone barefoot, but something kept tellin' him that it probably wasn't the best idea to try walking around the Points in bare feet.

As he put his bare feet down on the floor, he stepped on something that caused pain to shoot up from his foot, he yelped loudly and grabbed his foot. After brushing off the sole of his feet and finding nothing, 'cept a little blood on them, he took the candle and looked down on the floor, looking for whatever had stuck him, he didn't see anything.

Suddenly the door to his room swung open, at first he thought it was Miss Charlotte, either coming to find out what was wrong with him or to yell at him for waking her up, but it wasn't Miss Charlotte standing in the doorway, it was a girl about his age holding the candle out in front of her, she had her other hand on her hip and didn't look to pleased with him.

"You tryin' to wake the dead?" She said in a loud whisper

"I'm sorry, I step-"

"You're lucky Miss Charlotte is deafer then an ol' mule when she's sleepin' she don't take kindly to bein' woken up, she can get pretty nasty then."

"Sorry," the girl sighed and lowered the candle, now Wallace could get a good look at her, she had brown hair that hung down past her shoulders, she was about his height, maybe a little taller or maybe it was just the slant in the floor, Wallace couldn't really tell, and the hand that held the candle trembled slightly.

"So you're the new boy?"

"Aye," he replied bowing his head a little

"What's your name?"

"Wallace, miss,"

"Miss huh? Haven't been called miss 'fore, my names Sarah,"

"Nice to meet you Miss Sarah," even in the darkness he could see her blush, he couldn't understand why however, back in Scotland, if you didn't know a girl or woman's last name you called them miss with their first name, and if you did know their last name it was miss with the last name, it made perfect sense to him it was just out of respect, he really felt out of place with all these new American customs and he hoped he wasn't going to make anymore mistakes.

"Please don't call me Miss Sarah, I'm not one of the uptown girls like the Scamerhorns," (A/N: tried to keep the spelling as well as possible, I'm not good at it and that's as close as I can possible get it. Sorry if its wrongo)

"Scamerhorns? Wallace asked confused, Sarah looked at him like she couldn't believe he didn't know who she was talking about.

"Yes the Scamerhorns have you been livin' under a rock?"

"No, I…I was jus' joshin' you, 'course I know who they are, who doesn'" Wallace lied, making a mental note to ask Frankie in the morning who the Scamerhorns were and possibly other things as well, he wanted to blend in with the New Yorkers not set himself apart from them if he was going to keep making a fool of himself with his ignorance he was going to be in trouble.

Sarah had a look on her face like she didn't believe him, this look followed a wide grin which she directed at him Wallace returned the grin unsure what else to do.

"So you'd be wanting to visit the Scamerhorns right have dinner with them." Normally Wallace would have caught on to her false tone and not allowed himself to be trapped like he was about to, but he was so exhausted from the day no the last few months turmoil and new experiences that he didn't pick up on it. It also didn't help that he wanted to please Sarah, he was desperate to fit into this new environment to make sure he had a permanent acceptance, it had started with Frankie and the Butcher, and Frankie's pal Jim then Miss Charlotte they had all accepted him despite his outsider aura and now he wanted acceptance from Sarah.

"Aye 'course, if they'll 'ave me," Sarah giggled shaking her head, Wallace felt his face turn hot, he had something wrong, what it was for a fact he wasn't quit sure, but he had said something that wasn't right. "What? What I say?"

"The Scamerhorns live uptown," she said still giggling, Wallace looked at her once again showing his lack of knowing. Suddenly Sarah's look of amusement changed to one of understanding and sympathy when she saw the look on his face. "When did you arrive…here in New York," Wallace refused to look at her; she walked closer and cocked her head so she was looking up into his face. "You just got off the boat didn't you Wallace?" she paused smiling sympathetically "you did didn't you?"

"Aye," Wallace said softly slowly looking at her but avoiding looking her in the eye.

"Its nothing to be ashamed of, honest," she paused still smiling "so where did you come from?"

"Scotland,"

"Truthfully?"

"Aye, from the 'ighlands," Sarah sighed and gave a little slow dance turning around slowly and gently, Wallace raised an eyebrow trying to figure out what she was doing.

"Must be beautiful," she walked over to the window which sent a moonbeam into the room. "Then again, anything would be more lovely then this," she paused for a second looking out the window, before turning around and facing Wallace. "My uncle says that it's the fault of the Irish New York is so miserable, I don't believe him though, I'm not really sure who is deblame, but I do not think it is just the Irish." She said.

"So Bill is yer uncle then?"

"My mother was his younger sister,"

"Where is she now? If you do not mind me askin'" Sarah put her head down and didn't answer him. But Wallace didn't need a verbal answer; her actions told him everything he needed to know. "Me mother's gone as well, so's me da." Sarah looked up at him, curious.

"What happened to them?"

"Mother caught an illness years 'go she's with me da' now,"

"What happened to him?"

"Died on the crossin' from England 'ere,"

"So you're an orphan?"

"Aye," Wallace said sitting on his bed, this time he didn't laugh as he sank into the bed. "But as soon as I got 'nough money, I'm goin' 'ome, me grandparents are still livin' in the 'ighlands, so tisnt like I don't 'ave family." Sarah had a look on her face, Wallace couldn't be sure, but it was almost a look of disappointment

"If you're not planning on staying in America, then why did you even come?"

"Twas what me da' wanted, 'e was plannin' once we were settled to send fer me grandparents."

"Can I ask you something Wallace?"

"Aye go fer it,"

"Are you running with a gang?" Wallace shook his head hurriedly

"I work 'lone," he said sitting up straight and proud. "I don't answer to no one, well 'cept Bill 'cause 'e's 'elpin' me." Sarah smiled amusingly at him,

"Well I should be returning to my own room. It was a pleasure to meet you Wallace," he stood up quickly.

"Aye twas,"

"What are you're plans for tomorrow? Maybe I could show you around,"

"I would like that, when?"

"In the morning if that's all right,"

"As long as tis 'fere noon, I promised to meet Frankie at Paradise square," Sarah's smile now turned immediately to a frown

"Frankie?"

"Aye," Wallace replied looking at her confused "what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I would just watch yourself around the Little Forty Thieves, it's very easy to get into the gang, its getting out that is the problem part." And with that she was gone.

"But I don't want to join a gang," Wallace said as she closed the door either not hearing him or not wanting to. Sighing, he walked back over to his bed and lay on the blankets watching the moonlight bounce across the room. He wondered was this really right, was he really better off joining Frankie's gang? Or could he make it on his own. These thoughts danced through his mind as the candlelight did the same on the wall next to him, creating eerie shadows that danced a frightening dance. He turned his head away from the wall and blew out the candle.

* * *

Ok….so was that a good chapter? Was that a bad Chapter? What do you think of Sarah huh? Why do you think she doesn't like Frankie? Ooo so many questions! Ahhhh….Hehe, anyways you all know the drill….you've taken the time to read the story now if you could just take another minute and leave me a review…Constructive criticism is always welcome, but flames will be thrown into New York Harbor…Bwhahaha…Heh…ok yeah….Thanks everyone!

Till next update which will be soon I promise!

(bows)

Sharpsnout


	5. murders in the pints?

Disclaimer: I own nothing…well nothing 'cept the characters that you don't recognize from the Gangs of New York movie. Everything else belongs to the director, writer, and producer of Gangs of New York.

Authors Note: All righty then…when I was typing up this chapter I realized something that I totally screwed up on, the dates/years. In the first chapter Wallace's journal entries are dated 1863. Now I was just re-watching the movie and I realized mathematically I screwed up, the movie takes place in 1862 not 1863, and at one point in a chapter Frankie says that the fight between the Irish and the Natives with Bill and Priest happened 10 years before when I have my story taking place. So I'm very sorry that I screwed that up. For future chapters and for future knowledge, the fic takes place at the moment a year before Amsterdam gets out of Hell Gate, so about 1861 eventually it will catch up with the movie time period itself. Again I apologize for the mix up and my idioticness.

Also this chapter may be a little more er what's the word I'm lookin' for...uh...mouthy and more full of language then the others.

Now on to…(looks at reviews) ok…the one review I received

Copper Fizz (Anna): Glad you enjoyed the chapter…I haven't updated this in so long…I just had writers block on it then out of the blue the other day I got inspired to start it up again, and now I have more of an idea of where I'm gonna take this so updates should be more frequent.

Living like Wallace…hm…well for one thing I'm a history nutcase yes nutcase would be the best description all my friends know that I would rather visit a place like Williamsburg Virginia, or Plymouth Plantation then an amusement park. So I think I would have liked living back then…now living in the points themselves…that's another story, but I would have done good in the pick pocketing industry I'm pretty good at it…till my very guilty conscience would eventually kick in and I'd feel bad about stealing something from someone and probably given the stuff back. Heh…

The Scamerhorns were the people in the movie from the upper part of New York, like 5th avenue or something like that, they were being taken on a tour of the points by the constable. Uh…according to Amsterdam in the movie he says "The Scamerhorns were one of the oldest families in New York, they didn't run the city, but they were listen to quite closey by those who did." Or something like that, I'm not angry for you asking, questions are always welcome I probably should have explained who they were better in the fic, your probably not the only one who didn't know who they were. If you have any other question don't be afraid to ask…I tend to confuse people in my fics so if I do I apologize.

Well I hope you enjoy this new chappie, my names Kris by the way. Later!

Ok so that was the only review I had. Now with out further ado chapter 5!

* * *

Even though Wallace was exhausted from the days events, sleep wasn't coming easy to him. He always had trouble sleeping in new places with its new feelings and new noises, but for some reason, sleep was harder to come by here. The noises of the house were the same creaks and groans he had heard at his own home back in Scotland so that didn't make a difference. What did make a difference was the fact that instead of hearing the animals calling to one another outside and his father snoring in the room next-door, he heard shouts and screams coming from outside.

Nothing Wallace did could block out these noises, he covered his head with his pillow, he buried himself in the blankets despite it being a warm night nothing helped. Finally, he got up and walked to the window to see what all the noise was about. When he did, he wished he hadn't. Down below on the street he saw a small fight going on, between three men, closing his eyes and opening them again, Wallace could see that there was a fourth person, a young woman the men had her trapped against the building across the way and they were fighting over her. Wallace watched as one of the men slugged the other, he went down and quickly got up, then in the firelight from the lanterns, Wallace saw the flash of a knife as the man wielding sliced it through the air, he heard the man hit the ground hard, and this time he didn't get up.

The remaining men walked over to the terrified woman. Though Wallace couldn't really see what was going on, he did see the woman's face, and the look of pain and fear, she looked up at him and for a moment their eyes met, as he watched one of the men held her down while the other climbed on top of her. She let out a shrill scream and he heard her shout

"No God please no!"

"Shut up!" the man on top of her shouted then Wallace heard the slap as he slapped her across the face.

That slap silenced the screams and shouts that had been keeping Wallace awake. But now, the silence was worse then the noises themselves, he knew what was going on and wished he could do something, but knew he couldn't.

"'Oly Mary mother of God…" he muttered. Suddenly the man on top of the woman looked around, he glanced up at the window and for a brief second his eyes and Wallace's locked, quickly Wallace ducked away from the window, but it was to late the man had seen him, probably hadn't gotten that good of a look at him, but had seen him. "Bloody 'ell…" Wallace said, he felt his whole body shaking and felt his breaths coming quicker. Slowly he glanced out the window again, the two men were gone; the only ones left were the woman and the man who had been killed. The woman was laying motionless and though he couldn't be positive, Wallace was certain she was dead. Wallace backed away from the window and fell into his bed. Now he definitely wasn't going to sleep, he leaned against the wall, his knees tight against his chest as his body continued to shake. He had seen two murders, and he had seen the murderer who had possibly seen him as well. "I'm a dead man…" Wallace said closing his eyes; he quickly opened them when what he had just seen flashed in his mind.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the murder, the woman and what was done to her, and the murderer, and for the remainder of the night, Wallace forced his mind to picture his home in Scotland, forcing it to see the highlands, and the beautiful green moors, he desperately pictured his beloved home and pictured himself back there, with his father…with his grandparents.

* * *

At some point, Wallace fell asleep, because when he opened his eyes, it was dawn. The sun was beginning to send rays of light into the room and across the floor. He slipped out of bed, found his shoes and slipped them on. He hadn't changed out of the clothes he had been wearing the previous day, but since he had exactly slept, they were only slightly wrinkled. There was a chamber set and a washcloth, ready for use. Neither were very fancy, but Wallace was happy just to have them. He washed his face and wet his hair down. Before they had left for America, Wallace's father had cut both of their hair, Wallace's had been long enough for him to tie it up like his grandfather, but his father, fearful of lice and fleas that the ship was sure to be carrying, had cut their hair. It had begun to grow back on the trip, and now was nearly back to normal.

He was just slipping on his cap, when there was a knock on the door, seconds later Sarah came in.

"Miss Charlotte sent me to fetch you for breakfast, she also wanted you to know that this is the last time she will send for you, you will have to take care of getting down for breakfast on your own from now on." She said coolly, before turning on her heels and walking out of the room.

"She's becoming as warm as a winter back 'ome in the 'ighlands." Wallace muttered, a confused look on his face, sighing he followed her down the stairs to breakfast. Not much was said at breakfast, and after everything had been eaten and the table cleared off, Sarah left, apparently running errands for the aging Miss Charlotte. Wallace, thanked Miss Charlotte for the meal and hurried outside. He had been planning on following her, but had stopped when he saw the large crowd gathered near the decrepit house across from the boarding house. He ran over there and wiggled his way through the crowd even though he knew what they were all gaping at, he wanted to make certain he hadn't dreamed it all. It was the couple from the previous night, and now being closer he could get a good look at them. The woman was young, nineteen twenty years old and the man was about the same age give or take a few years. The man's throat had been cut and the sidewalk was covered in dried blood. The woman's face was bruised and bloody and her neck was bruised, her clothes were torn leaving her partially naked. No one had covered her up to give her at least some decency as they all gapped and chatted about the two people as if it was just a common thing to find dead people on the streets.

"Here, here, what is this?" called a gruff voice. Wallace turned around and looked, it was a police officer. He walked over and pushed the onlookers out of the way.

"Looks to be like she tried to rob this man, probably cut his throat," another officer said.

"And what happened to her do you suppose,"

"Someone probably took it upon themselves to make sure justice came through." Wallace couldn't believe his ears, that wasn't what happened at all. He knew he should probably keep his mouth shut, but he couldn't help it.

"That tisnt what 'appened!" Wallace said loudly the crowd all looked at him "two men 'tacked this lady and this man tried to 'elp 'er and they killed 'im."

"And just how do you know that?" The second officer said gruffly looking at Wallace.

"I seen it, las' nigh'"

"Are you sure what you saw was what happened?"

"Aye,"

"So you are calling this man a liar?" the officer said "or blind?"

"No course not, jus' I seen it tis all,"

"I think you need to run along now boy a murder scene aint the place for children and we certainly do not need the help from a no good lying Irish bastard. Now git!" the officer said pushing Wallace away. Wallace hit the ground, got up and ran off.

"I bleedin' swear one more of these bloody bastards calls me an Irish, there will be 'ell flyin' in the five pints."

"Are you tryin' to get yourself killed there boyo?" Wallace looked to where the voice was coming from. It was Frankie and he looked worried and a little angry,

"No, but they got it all wron' they think that woman killed that man fer 'is purse, twasnt like that I seen it all las' nigh'."

"Hey I believe you," Frankie said as they walked towards Paradise Square. "But that aint how things work in the Pints. You never argue with the law on something like that, they don't care about some Jack Dandies from the pints, now if it was someone from uptown then they might listen to you."

"That aint righ',"

"No tisnt, but that's the way things run 'round here, you need to get used to it or else your goin' to get yourself killed."

"But other people may get killed if that bastard tisnt caugh' 'ow can 'e kill them people and then get 'way with it"

"Aye he may do just that, but Wallace this is what I've been tryin' to explain to ya, this isn't the old country, thing's get run differently. No one cares what happens in the pints as long as it stays in the pints."

"So nothin' will be done 'bout the murders?"

"The only way something would be done boyo? Would be if the murderers had killed an uptown couple down here or if the murderers themselves came forward and confessed the whole thing. Nither of which is every goin' to happen the first has a better shot of happenin' then them confessin'. So just forget about it. there's nothin' you can do."

"But I watched them be killed; I saw it with me own two eyes,"

"That's the other thin' Wallace, did you ever stop and think that maybe them murderers know that you saw them and might come after you?" Wallace stopped short and looked at Frankie…he knew that the murderer did see him, but the thought that his life would be in danger because of that hadn't hit him yet. "You didn't even think 'bout that did you?" Frankie sighed and leaned against the iron fence, "no one cares 'bout no one 'round here 'cept themselves, your on your own, sure you may have some lookin' out for you, but in truth the only person you can really count on out here is yourself. Understand?" Wallace nodded

"Aye," he said softly

"That's one of the reasons the gangs aint so bad, we look out for each other."

"But I don't want to join the gangs, no 'fense Frankie, I jus' aint ready fer one,"

"I know…that's fine, you pal 'round with me, Little Forty Thieves will look out for you even if you aint 'part of the gang."

"Really?"

"Aye, and Bill the Butcher's already taken a fancy to you, so you's got him on your side to. As long as you keep low and just go with the way your life is now you'll be fine." Wallace nodded and Frankie grinned "good, now I promised you the ins and outs of pickings in the pints didn't I?"

"Aye you did,"

"Then lets get started. Now first thing you need to know, be on guard, anyone can be a picker anyone. If you don't watch whose 'round you they'll rob you blind, all your pickings will become theirs," Frankie sat down on the curb and motioned for Wallace to do the same. When he did Frankie pointed out a group of girls about twenty years old and a few older boys standing near by them. "Now you tell me who out of that group do you think is a pickpocket?" Wallace looked at the group and studied them, there was a boy about fifteen or so, walking past the girls, he bumped into the group girls and after apoliogizing continued on his way.

"'im," Wallace said pointing at the boy

"You sure?"

"Positive, 'e bumped into them girls on purpose, tis an old trick, only problem with it is there's a better chance of getting' caught."

"Well your right sort of,"

"What was I wron' 'bout?"

"Who did the picking,"

"Whatcha talkin' 'bout?"

"Remember what I said, anyone can be a picker. What you just saw was that poor bastard getting robbed blind." Wallace watched as shorter girl of the group, grinned at the others and held up a purse. His eyes flew to the boy who franticly turned out his pockets and looked around realizing he had been robbed and obviously unsure of the culprit.

"Bloody 'ell, girl pickpockets even?"

"Bludgets,"

"Beg pardon?"

"Their called Bludgets, fancy name for girl pickpockets."

"Their good, not many can pull that off and not raise suspicion."

"Aye, that's what makes them so dangerous, not many suspect them, so most don't even think when they get bumped by a girl. But for those of us who know the trade, we know to steer clear."

"Anyone's fair game then?"

"I told you here in the pints you take care of yourself any way you damn well can. There's less chance of getting arrested for it here in the pints, you go uptown and try, your chances of getting' arrested go up, sure there's better pickin's, but only a master could manage to pull it off, or have the wits to go through with it." Frankie paused thinking. "Now your good, no question 'bout that, hell you may be better then most of the pickers 'round here. You've got one flaw that I can see."

"What's that?"

"Your heart,"

"Me 'eart? What's that got to do with anythin?"

"Your heart aint in the trade, you cant be thinking that this is just a fun way to pass the time anymore, now this is how your goin' to survive, you don't face that fact your either goin' to be caught or killed. Ya think you can do that?"

"I can try," Wallace replied softly.

"Well go for it," Frankie said pointing to a group walking down the street, the crowded streets made it hard for them to walk and made it perfect to pick. Taking a deep breath, Wallace walked over to the group causally, one man had his timepiece and his purse attacked to a chain on his vest, for an amateur it would be difficult to get the chain off in the brief few seconds one had to accomplish it, but for Wallace it was simple. He walked past the man shoving as if he was in a hurry to get through; he gently brushed up against the man trying to push past him even taking the chance to say

"Pardon me, 'cuse me, watch out!" No one took notice to Wallace as they continued on their way, no one, not even the man noticed him or gave him a second glace. Wallace walked back over to Frankie and sat down next to him.

"Well? How'd you do?" Frankie asked excited. Wallace watched as the man continued down the street and rounded the corner.

"So, so," he replied "say you aint thirsty are you?"

"As a matter of fact I am…but we don't got any money, anyways I want to know how you did."

"I told you so, so, now come on and get a drink, I still don't know 'merican money I don't want to get swindled." Frankie obviously confused followed Wallace around the corner to the alleyway.

"What's going on?"

"Jus' figured you'd want to feast yer eyes on these," Wallace said grinning, he held out his hand in which was the timepiece and the purse, still attached to the chain.

"You…you really…holy Mary Mother of Jesus, I cant believe you did it."

"What? I jus' did what you asked, only this time I put me 'eart in it," Frankie just stared wide eyed. Slowly a grin slinked its way across his face and he slapped Wallace on the back in congrats.

"Wallace your more then ready to pick the pints." Wallace grinned wide with pride.

"Thanks Frankie," he said slipping his treasures under his hat. They walked out of the alley and walked back to where they had been sitting.

"Maybe someday I'll take you uptown, there some prime pickens up there if you've got the guts and the skills, something you definitely got both of."

"Say Frankie…what is this uptown thin' what makes it different then the pints?" Frankie took a deep breath before answering.

"Uptown is where the rich folks live, the wealthy gangs."

"Rich gangs?"

"That's right, now they don't run like we do, they use their power and money to run things. The Scamerhorns are a prime example of rich gangs; they have power and are listened to by those who run New York…" Frankie paused and took his hat off "someday, the cities goin' to erupt,"

"Erupt? 'ow so?"

"A war is goin' to come to New York, a war between rich and poor, Irish versus natives, blacks versus whites, tis only a matter of time. Bill knows it as well, he's been making sure he keeps his hold over the pints, if war does break out, it'll be the pints against the rest of the city and we have the means to take on the whole damn city, but we'll never hold our own if it gets over that."

"War…you mean the fightin' that's goin' on righ' now?"

"That might start somethin' as well. We're all goin' to be choosin' sides in this, some will stay with Bill some may join the Irish, but it'll happen, the tension's been buildin' up 'tween the groups and it's only a matter of time 'fore it slams us hard." Wallace looked at Frankie,

"If war does break out…who will you side with?" Frankie didn't say anything for a moment.

"Dunno…I like Bill, he's looked out for me and my gang. But I aint no native, I was born in Ireland, immigrated here when I was five, lost both me parents here in the Pints, pa ran off with the first whore he lay eyes on, ma died a week later of a broken heart. I was never good at pickens, no way near as good as you, that's why I hooked up with the gang, seemed right you know, anything to avoid bein' sent to Hell gate."

"So you would side with the Irish?"

"Most likely, but only if it came down to the Irish versus Natives, other then that I'd back Bill." Frankie paused and looked at Wallace "what bout you Wallace?"

"I really 'onestly cant say…I don't got no loyalties 'ere, leas' not yet, I think I'd stay in the middle, not sidin' with nobody." Now Wallace paused for a moment "I jus' 'ope I'm long gone back to Scotland 'fere anythin' like that comes to pass." Frankie nodded

"That sounds good, will miss ya Wallace ifen you do leave us." Wallace took a deep breath

"Aye…but believe me it'll be a while 'fere I've got nough money to leave 'ere…a long while." Frankie grinned and stood up.

"Well I mus' be takin' off, me an' the Thieves need to go collect for the Butcher." He said grinning even wider "take care, and don't forget you've got to pay tribute to the Butcher as well now, so you might want to go pocket more then whatcha got, and don't forget to take it to him." Frankie turned to leave when he turned back to Wallace. "An' Wallace?"

"Aye?"

"Don't give it to no body 'cept Bill, no matter who asks for it, even if they say they'll give it to him for ya, don't believe them got it?"

"Aye I understand," Wallace said.

"Good, see you 'round and remember all I said." And with that Frankie disappeared into the crowd. Wallace stood up and took a deep breath; he pulled his cap down low over his eyes and gave a nod.

"Five Pints be on guard.…the bes' picker in all of Scotland and England is 'ere!"

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Holy crapo…I didn't realize that it was that long…I hope it wasn't boring I really tried to keep the action apart of it and make sure the dialogue didn't overtake the story. So yeah that was chapter five, I hope everyone enjoyed and if you did I would appreciate reviews…no flames just reviews, constructive criticism is always welcome. Next update hopefully soon…till then later peeps!

(bows)

Sharpsnout


	6. Pocket full of money head fully of worry

**Disclaimer**: Holy smokes, has it been a long time since I updated this fic. Wooooah Last summer, June 1st…I am so sorry, I know I kept promising and promising that I would update and I never did, basically I had so much problems with this chapter and figure out how I would work it. I even watched Gangs of New York multiple times, and a few months ago bought a book about the Gangs of New York. Nothing was helping. But slowly but surly I was able to finally get something written. So if this chapter sucks I am very sorry, I did try, I will try harder to update on a timely fashion and hopefully the next chapter will up faster then this one…

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The street lamps were just being lit as Wallace raced down the street trying desperately to make it before the lamp in front of the house was lit; he didn't fancy spending the night out here. His pockets were weighed down with the purses he had lifted, he had ventured back onto the cobblestone and in his personal opinion had a really good haul.

But now that really good haul was weighing him down, his already worn pants held up by a very worn pair of suspenders, now sagged; forcing him to run holding them up to prevent the suspenders from snapping. The jingling from the coins echoed through streets and that was the last sound Wallace wanted to be echoing.

His heart was pounding so loud he thought that it could be heard as well as the jingling and jangling coming from his pockets. He was almost there just a little more; Wallace felt his heart and his stomach drop when he saw the lamp in front of the boarding house and another sound a sound that terrified him, one that drowned out his heartbeat and the jingling, the sound of the door locking.

"Damn!" he said loudly reaching the door. "Please lemme in," he said loudly banging on the door. He didn't care if Miss Charlotte yelled at him; he just didn't want to spend the night out here. He heard the sound of footsteps coming down the street, two sets of footsteps.

For an instance the incident that he had witnessed the previous night flashed through his mind and he felt fear take over his body, what it was the murderer, he was going to get killed if he saw him. The footsteps were getting closer, much to close for comfort, quickly Wallace jumped off the steps and hid next to them, he barley breathed as his heart beat echoed in his ears.

Shadows crossed under the streetlamps, it was two men and though Wallace couldn't be positive he was sure that they were the same one's he had seen the previous night.

"I heard something come down this way."

"Maybe it was a loose dog you ejit."

"It was the sound of coins, lots of them,"

"Well there aint anythin' 'round here now, lessen you see something,"

"Ifen I'd seen somethin' I'd tell ya,"

"Come on let's get out of here t'aint nothing 'round here." Wallace continued to hold his breath until they had disappeared around the corner, in the light he could still see the red of blood from the couple that morning and if he stared at that spot long enough he could see them laying there with the other men hanging over them going through their pockets. It was just one more reason why Wallace didn't want to spend the night out here. He ran back up to the door and banged on it again.

"Please Miss Charlotte lemme in I cant spend the night out here." He heard the footsteps returning this time he felt frozen to the spot he couldn't move to hide. Wallace knew it he was done for, they'd recognize him and kill him, they'd leave him laying bleeding in the streets like the couple.

Suddenly the door opened and Wallace fell inside landing on the floor hard, he looked up and saw Sara's face peering down at him looking very angry.

"Didn't Miss Charlotte tell you that if your not in here by time the lamp is lit your out for the night?" she asked angrily. What is the matter with you?"

"Don' ask questions shut the door, quick!" he exclaimed getting to his feet and pushing the door shut. He walked over to the window next to the door and carefully peered around the frame, they were back running this time.

"Now, I know I heard it,"

"No I heard it too, someone's out here."

"Aye an' by the sounds of it lotsa money."

"What is-" Sara started to say coming up behind him trying to peer out the window with him, quickly Wallace put his hand to her mouth keeping it there until they had once again disappeared. "What was that all about?" Sara exclaimed pushing Wallace's hand away forcefully

"I didn' wan' them to 'ear you!" he replied just as loudly.

"What did you do? Are they looking for you?" she asked accusingly "I told you running with a gang was a bad idea!"

"I seen them murder two people las' nigh'," he said loudly "an' I aint with no gang fer the las' time! I work 'lone" Sara looked at him for a moment as if she was studying him, probably trying to determine if he was being entirely sincere. "Back 'ome pick-pocketing was jus' somethin' I did fer fun, jus' to prove I could, me father didn' like it, not 'tall me grandfather though' it twas funny as long as no one got 'urt and I always returned what I 'ad stolen, but now it aint a game or fer fun 'more, now it's the only way I can survive, I don' wan' to die 'ere, I wan' to go 'ome. Frankie keeps tellin' me that bein' in a gang's me bes' chance fer survival bes' way to make money and tis the best way to avoid getting either killed or sen' to…to…" he paused trying desperately to remember the name, but he was drawing a blank.

"Hell Gate," Sara said softly Wallace looked at her in surprise

"Aye," he said slowly, nodding a little "you know of it?"

"Every street orphan, pickpocket, little forty thieves, every child who lives in the points knows about Hell Gate, whether they have a home with parents or not, my uncle told me about it."

"They'd send girls there? I thought only boys got sent to 'ell Gate?"

"I suppose they do, my uncle just told me to be careful 'specially with the law. They must have a type for girls maybe they do maybe they don't I don't want to be the one to find out, do you?" Wallace took a deep breath and looked out the window just to be cautious.

"No 'pose I don' either." He turned and looked at her "Sara, can I ask you a question?" she nodded "why don' you like Frankie?" now Sara frowned as if she was thinking about the question and wasn't liking the answers she was coming up with. "Fergive me, I shouldn' pry tis yer own business. I should 'ead to bed, I've to see the Butcher tomorrow," he bowed his head respectively "good nigh Sar…I mean Miss Williams," he said and began to climb the stairs.

"Wallace?" Sara said behind him, he turned to look at her

"Aye?"

"It's not that I don't like Frankie, my uncle likes him, it's his gang I do not like I do not trust the Little Forty Thieves, and as I said before it's easy to get involved with them, but it is hard to get out."

"An' as I said Miss Williams, I don' wan' to run with a gang, I'm perfectly 'app taking care of meself I don' need a gang to look out fer me." He turned away from her and headed up the steps towards his room. Inside he slipped off his shoes and walked over to the window staring out into the night, it was quiet; no cats howling, no people screaming, there weren't even any footsteps it was the stillest night Wallace could ever remember even nights in the highlands were never THIS quiet.

Staring out the window not hearing any sounds, just feeling the stillness of the night got Wallace to thinking and suddenly for the first time at least the first time Wallace was going to allow himself to admit it, he was homesick extremely homesick, he suddenly missed everything, he missed his parents, his grandparents, he even missed Seamus a boy about his age who lived in the small village were his grandparents lived, they didn't get along in fact to be blunt they hated each other, he wasn't quite sure why and he didn't think Seamus even knew, but he even missed him and his teasing and his picking fights then blaming it all on Wallace.

Reaching into his bag he pulled out his father's timepiece, he swung it by the chain in front of his eyes watching the hands tick, most of all he missed his father, he had always been extremely tough on Wallace, especially after his mother's death, but he was still his father and they were very close and the toughness Wallace know knew had only been protectiveness he hadn't thought it before, he had always seen his father boring and would rather be with his grandfather then with his own father. But looking back, Wallace know how much alike he and his father really were and how much he cared about him. Though his father would never admit it, it was he who had taught Wallace the same slide of hand trick that he now used to pick pockets. A game which now was the best way for Wallace to survive.

Reaching back into the bag he pulled out his mothers locket and held it next to the watch, two items of his parents, two items that they both treasured above all else, he ran his pointer finger over the bumps on the locket that took on the shape of a flower a beautiful rose, like her name. Slipping the locket on and hiding it under his shirt, Wallace blew out the candle and crawled under the thick comforter, as he lay in bed still feeling homesick and missing his family, Wallace hummed a lullaby his mother had often sung to him before he went to sleep, and slowly as he did start to drift off to sleep, he heard the words of the song echoing in his memory; feeling as if his mother was once again singing him off to sleep, he listened carefully taking in each note and each word though it had been years since he had last heard the song, last head his mother sing it to him, he still remembered every line:

**'_Sleep my child and peace attend thee,_****_  
_****_All through the night_****_  
_****_Guardian angels God will send thee,_****_  
_****_All through the night_****_  
_****_Soft the drowsy hours are creeping_****_  
_****_Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,_****_  
_****_I my loving vigil keeping_****_  
_****_All through the night._******

**_While the moon her watch is keeping_****_  
_****_All through the night_****_  
_****_While_ _the weary world is sleeping_****_  
_****_All through the night_****_  
_****_O'er they spirit gently stealing…_'**

And even though the stillness had vanished, replaced quickly by the sounds of shouting and bells as a fire erupted somewhere in the points, and the fire departments all rushed to be the first ones on the scene. None of this stirred Wallace, as he lay dreaming of Scotland, dreaming of his father, and hearing his mother's voice once again singing as he slept, his homeland replacing New York's dirty streets and cruel people, with images of the rolling highland hills, the fog rolling off the Loch's in the early morning, and the friendly people who would greet you with a good day and a smile even if they did now know you.

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So bad? Good? Needs work? Lemme know, just no flames, oh I have a note here for you…somewhere…oh there it is!

That song I had in there is an actual song it's called 'All through the Night,' I am not sure who wrote it, but believe me finding it was not easy, I looked everywhere in every Celtic book I own to find a Scottish lullaby and this was one of the few I found that was gentle and not involving death and gore…this is also not the complete version, for the complete song just ask me. It's really pretty and I would love to hear it with music and someone who can sing singing it…lol…

Anyways onto some review thanks that have been long time coming…

**Maeko- Nohara**: Tis updated and like I just said I am so sorry it took so long, I know, my grammer and spelling in the beginning of the fic is horrible, and believe me my other fics? The grammar isn't much better. It's not my strong suit, never has been probably never will be, many of my professors say I have a writing gift, my only problem is the grammar and the punctuations, they've been trying to help. Anyways I really glad you like this, I hope that you keep reading this and I hope to hear from you! (and thanks for the offer I'll keep you in mind!)

**Me**: ok…that's just weird… "The lord can come anytime. Be prepared."…not even gonna touch that one…

**Kiki**: I know the way I wrote it I made it sound like Wallace doesn't care that his dad is dead, but shock is a wonderful emotion killer, believe me, it'll sink in fully and it's never a pretty picture when it does. So that's exactly what's going on in Wallace's head, he understands his dad is dead, but it hasn't really sunk in yet. But I thank you for your help and for your review and I hope to hear from you!

**Anna/Copperfizz/Sweet-opium-dreamer**: heh, I really think I would be a horrible Bludget. Waaay to much of a guilt complex in me hehe, sorry this chapter didn't have any blood and gore…I will try with the next one, lots of it. This chapter wasn't as long as the last one and I'm sorry, hopefully the next one will be better and longer. Thank again for your review it's always great to hear from reoccurring readers! Keep reading and hope to hear from you!

Ok that's everybody

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter and if not I'm sorry…So like I said…leave reviews, no flames, but constructive criticism, (which I guarantee I need) is always welcome…Well till next time!

bows

Sharpsnout


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